Phantom Fingers
by Rsjessen
Summary: The hand was still moving along his thigh, he swallowed hard and look down. There was nothing to see, yet he clearly felt a hand moving up his leg, nearing the button of his breeches. He glanced back at Emrys and saw a smile on the Warlock's face. Mordred swore silently.


Mordred stifled yet another yawn. By his side Arthur was droning on and on about the rules of yet another mission the knights would be going on. Mordred was certain that the rules hadn't changed since the last time, but the king apparently deemed it important to share them with his knights of the round table for the umpteenth time.

Mordred found his eyes straying from their resting place at his king, and to the person behind Arthur instead. Emrys stood with his back straight and eyes glazed over. It was clear that the manservant wasn't paying any attention to the speech either.

As if feeling the druid's eyes on him, Emrys' eyes suddenly focused on Mordred. A small smile played on his lips.

_Enjoying the meeting? _Emrys' voice rang clear inside Modred's head. The druid allowed himself to send the warlock a small smile in return.

_I find it rather tedious, being told the same things over and over again._

_That's rather disrespectful to your king. _Emrys' smile grew. The man had never been good at hiding his emotions.

_You would know. _

This time Emrys let out a small laugh, catching the attention of the king. Arthur turned his head towards his manservant so quickly that Mordred feared it would fall off.

"Care to share with the rest of us, what you find so amusing _Mer_lin?"

"Nothing at all Sire."

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned back towards the knights, picking up where he left off. Merlin, in turn, glared at Mordred.

_You are going to get me in trouble._

Mordred allowed himself yet another small smile.

_No, _you _are going to get _you _in trouble._

For a time after that, Merlin ignored him and Mordred found himself once again staring at the King with his mind elsewhere. A soft breeze against his neck brought him back to reality.

Confused, he glanced around the room. No windows where open, nor any doors, so the breeze couldn't have come from outside.

Yet another breeze, this time, against his thigh.

He glanced around the room, looking at the faces of the knights around the table. All of them were staring at Arthur with the same blank look on their faces; none of them seemed to have felt anything.

The next time, it became quite clear that it hadn't been a breeze, though. Mordred almost jumped, years of training making him restrain himself just in time, as he felt a hand resting on his thigh. Moving up and down, caressing it.

He glanced at Gwaine, who had the seat next to him. Both of the older man's hands were resting on the table. So instead he turned his eyes to Emrys. The warlock had a suspiciously calm look on his face.

The hand was still moving along his thigh, he swallowed hard and looked down. There was nothing to be seen, yet he clearly felt a hand moving up his leg, nearing the button of his breeches. He glanced back to Emrys and saw a smile on the Warlock's face. Mordred swore silently.

_I swear to god Emrys, I will – _

_Pretty sure you won't be doing anything right now._

Even as a voice inside of Mordred's head, Emrys sounded smug. It was quite clear that the warlock knew he had all the control at the moment. There was no way Mordred could do anything but sit quietly, the risk of getting caught nailing him to his seat.

Mordred sat tense in his chair as he felt the ghost-hand underneath his breeches, now touching bare skin. He hardened quickly at the familiar yet strange touch, and had to grip the edge of the table, in order to not squirm in his seat.

"You alright?"

Mordred turned to look at Gwaine, a strained smile grazing his lips. The phantom touch had moved lower and was now wrapped it's invincible fingers around his member.

_I'm going to get you later for this, Emrys._

"Yes, I'm quite alright."

_I'll be looking forward to it._

Gwaine shrugged and turned back to not-listening to the king. In the same moment the hand started moving, squeezing him, running its ghostly thumb over his head and Mordred bit his bottom lip so he wouldn't cry out. Gwaine shot him yet another concerned look, but decided to leave it be.

Mordred felt sweat gathering at his hairline, running down along his head, as he approached climax with a speed that he was rather embarrassed of.

_Let go_.

Merlin prompted him and the grip on Mordred's cock tightened. The young druid looked into his lover's eyes and came. A silent scream resounded in both of their heads.

_I hate you so much._

_I love you too. _


End file.
